


Solo

by Enigel



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Porn Battle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-03
Updated: 2011-02-03
Packaged: 2017-10-15 09:59:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/159655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enigel/pseuds/Enigel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt was 'singing', which naturally lead to 'singing in the shower' and then to other fun activities that can be done in the shower.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Solo

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to oxoniensis for the fast and insightful beta, and for organising the ~~orgy~~ battle in the first place!

The hotel wasn't much, of course - when had they ever stayed at a hotel that gave off the slightest whiff of niceness? It was, luckily though, 'room the size of a cupboard' cheap, and not 'potential bio-hazard' cheap. The bathroom looked clean enough, at least, and the water was hot.

Martin was determined to indulge in a hot shower that lasted past the point of bare necessity and well into luxury, without having to worry about the heating bill.

He stripped in the room and dropped his clothes on the narrow bed, then stepped into the bathroom. There _was_ only one step from the room into the bathroom, which didn't so much _contain_ a shower cubicle as _was_ the shower cubicle, with a toilet crowded into one side and a tiny sink into the other. It didn't matter; it only meant it would get warm faster, since the heating wasn't working. If Martin had to choose between heating and hot water, he'd definitely choose the hot water, anytime, which was lucky considering he _didn't_ have a choice.

He got under the water and got thoroughly soaked first, then started washing his hair. He always started with his hair; it cleared his head and put him in the right mood to try and wash all the day's annoyances away.

He lathered his neck and chest with the blueish complimentary showergel, rubbing in wide, lazy circles. The first notes of La donna è mobile slipped out without conscious thought. There must be something, he mused, about the peculiar acoustics of a small room with running water.

He washed his shoulders, mindful of the sting he could still feel under his left shoulderblade; he'd pulled a muscle while lifting a particularly heavy box three days ago, and it was still bothering him at times. As water hit his skin in a welcome wave, he caught himself humming again. What the heck, Martin thought. There were no neighbours to complain, and his nearest sarcastic coworker was two rooms down the corridor. He sang louder, replacing all the lyrics he couldn't remember with wordless hums.

The tiny bathroom was steaming now. Martin felt warm and fuzzy, his whole body more relaxed than he'd been in a long while. Emboldened by the pleasant feeling of warmth, he attacked Non più andrai next, loud and clear, as he lathered and rinsed his lower body.

Once that was done, there was technically no need to stay in the shower any longer. Martin bit his lip with the vague sense of guilt that always accompanied this part. He always left it for the end, just in case the water wouldn't stay hot, or there wasn't time.

The water showed no signs of cooling down.

He closed his eyes and gave his cock a tentative tug. He'd just washed down there, with brisk, efficient moves, but this was different. Maybe it was the heat, the steam, the relaxed feeling in his muscles, or the unceasing caress of water on his skin, but his body's response was instant.

His cock hardened after only a few slow strokes. Martin closed his eyes and focused on the sensations. He turned his face upwards, towards the flow of water, to feel the soft but relentless pressure of the droplets falling on his lips. His tongue darted out, catching the water, licking his lips as if preparing for a kiss.

He imagined someone else’s hands on him, strong, elegant hands, with a firm grip on his cock and a teasing touch under his balls. The lights dancing behind his closed eyelids took the shape of various pleasing sights glimpsed over the day: a pert arse, a pair of shapely legs, slender hips; shapely arms, like those that would be gripping him now, reaching around to bring him to release.

He increased the pressure of the hand encircling his cock, and thumbed the head at the beginning of each downward motion. Familiar heat and tension were coiling between his legs, and before he could stop it, a deep, low moan escaped him. Martin usually tried to keep silent, but the noise surprised him with its unexpected eroticism.

He pumped faster into his fist, feeling each slide of skin against skin, listening to his own panting breath; each gasp and moan heightened his arousal, setting off a chain reaction; light pulsed behind his eyelids in the rhythm of his racing heartbeat.

He felt his climax approaching, and grabbed onto the towel support with his left hand. He tested its resistance first - that would be a very embarrassing accident, he thought, laughing weakly, though not even that mundane thought had any effect on his arousal - his breath was fast, erratic, matching the pace of his right hand.

He came with a loud, shuddering moan. Hot liquid spilled over his hand, quickly washed away by the lukewarm water. He hadn't even noticed the water cooling down. He took a moment to regain his breath, eyes still closed, body leaning against the smooth tiled wall.

Afterwards, Martin cleaned himself fastidiously with the last of the warm water. He took a few deep breaths before turning the tap off. He felt refreshed; tired, yes, but not exhausted. He wiped off the steam from the tiny mirror.

He was humming again, and it took him a few moments to identify the tune that had come to him without thinking.

He giggled to his reflection when he'd placed the tune and matched it to the lyrics.

"And more, much more than this, I did it my way," he sang.

He hoped that some day there'd be someone he could _sing_ with. But until then, he had this, and no one could take it from him. On a whim, he winked at his own face in the mirror. Through the steam that was building up again, his image, of course, winked back.


End file.
